The Journal Snatcher
by xmengirlzrule
Summary: ROMY Gambit has gotten into the bad habit of reading his girlfriend’s diary, and Rogue is not happy about his lack of respect for her privacy. So she decides to get back at him by writing some less than flattering things about him in the book. Oneshot.


**Disclaimer: **I deny all proprietary rights to anything Marvel® associated.

**Summary: **Gambit has gotten into the bad habit of reading his girlfriend's diary, and Rogue is _not_ happy about his lack of respect for her privacy. So she decides to get back at him by writing some _less than flattering _things about him in the book. One-shot.

**The Journal Snatcher**

Written by xmengirlzrule

_What does Swamp Rat think he's doin', lookin' through mah personal belongings..._

Emerald green orbs, belonging to the recluse girl called Rogue, watched from behind her balcony's curtains, clutching the soft, light material tight in her gloved hand as her soon-to-be ex-boyfriend rummaged through her drawers, peering at all her things. He stopped for a moment to finger and examine a tiny bound book. His face shone happily. It was just what he had been looking for. It was Rogue's journal, the place where she wrote about her days at the Institute and life in general. She couldn't believe what she was witnessing. He was just about to open it when a shrill shriek sounded from outside the closed door.

"Rogue," Kitty called. "Where are you?"

He carefully replaced the book in its proper place in the jumbled drawer and snuck out of the room as quiet as a mouse. She had to give him his props; he was good... no, excellent. Everything was put back, in the same exact spot from where it had emerged. If she hadn't been there, seeing it with her own two eyes, she would've never guessed anyone was in the room at all.

She came out of hiding, hands on hips and a frown settled upon her lips. "Ya gonna wish ya never tried ta read mah diary..."

-

Remy Etienne LeBeau, otherwise known as Gambit, crept through the dim corridors of the Xavier Institute, always filled with loud, rambunctious teenagers. It was unusually quiet tonight, and to be honest, the silence was beginning to creep him out. He much preferred the noisy hustle and bustle. On top of all that, the hush made it even harder to sneak around and be stealthy about it. Where were the New Recruits when you needed them? You could hear a pin drop from a mile away—but quietness was not a problem for him, a professional former thief, as he had had tons of training in the art of burglary. It would only be a benefit.

His objective this cold, rainy April night: to get to Rogue's room, right across from Kitty's and next to Jean Grey's, undetected, unseen, and unheard—even by telepathy. Under no circumstances could he be caught on the most dangerous mission he had ever been on: searching for and reading Rogue's diary, though she preferred to call it a journal. _Same difference, _he thought. If caught, he would be severely reprimanded, most likely by Logan, for being down in the girls' dorm area—since Logan loved chewing out the Cajun anyways. But that was just the adults. He could bear their disappointment. Rogue's punishment would be much worse if she found out what he was doing down there in the first place. There was the possibility of being cutoff from make-out sessions—even if through a thin force field, finding himself on the ground with a black eye and split lip, stuck in a coma for two weeks, or be totally exiled from her heart... forever.

And although he knew it was wrong to snoop, especially through a girl's things, he couldn't stop himself from acting on his strong urges and impulses. He desperately wanted to know what she thought of him and what her deepest thoughts and feelings were. She never discussed such things—aloud. The only place with all the answers to his questions was in her little green book.

He opened the door, slowly, and did a quick look-over to make sure no one was present and accounted for and walked right in. At the moment, Rogue was in the library, studying for one of Mrs. Mayer's algebra tests, one that counted towards seventy-five percent of her grade which was already a C. And she wasn't allowed to use a calculator which lessened the odds of her passing down to 5:100 or five percent. And bad grades meant more time in the Danger Room with Logan... on Saturdays... at four o'clock in the morning! And he knew his girlfriend would never take a chance like that, for she loved any sleep she came across.

Remy reached into the drawer and came up with her diary. He pulled a paperclip from out of his trench coat pocket and picked the puny lock she believed would keep someone out. _Never t'ought of m', did y' chère? _He plopped down on her bed, resting his head on her silken pillow, and turned the pages before beginning to read from where he last left off.

—**Thursday, April 19**

—**7.56 am**

Ugh. I can't stand him. What a creep! Ooh, he just makes me so mad... that ignorant, immature Swamp Rat! Sometimes I just want to wring his neck. Remy just annoys the heck outta me! I can't even think or speak straight, I'm so frustrated! Did I already say that I can't stand him? Oh well...

_Wait, _Remy thought, pondering what he possibly could've done to anger Rogue. _What did Remy d'? What happened t' 'Oh, Ah just love those red-on-black eyes', 'And ta think he's all mahne' an' 'He's so sexy...' What did Remy' d' wrong? Did he forget our anniversary?_

He thinks he's God's gift to women. Puh-leez. Scott's better looking than that guy. But, oh, I just adore him! I might faint if that handsome, buff Cajun just looks in my direction! I'll do anything for him, even give up my poor, pathetic life! (I'm being sarcastic, if you haven't already caught on.) He thinks that any and every girl will fall to their knees and worship the ground he walks on, serve on him hand and foot, noon and night. Well, he's got another thing coming if he thinks that I'm gonna be that girl! Get a life...

I mean, he just comes up to me and smiles that ugly crooked tooth grin of his and expects me to swoon! 'Eeew, that's like, disgusting,' as my friend Kitty would say. And I agree wholeheartedly. And did I mention his horrible bad breath and taste in clothing! Gag me. Leather pants are so out dude! Newsflash: they don't make your butt look sexy! What it looks like is a blob of jelly! He really needs to work out more. He's getting fat. And that fakey French accent of his is awful! Every time he opens his mouth I have to run to the bathroom! I want to puke. Gross.

_Scott? Better lookin' den m'? _The features of his face displayed deep concern. _And fakey? M' accent? Non, non. Impossible. An' m' breath? _He put his hand up to his mouth and exhaled slowly, breathing the air in through his nose to sample and smell it. He almost choked. _Okay. So de fille 's right 'bout dat. Remy d' need a breath mint. _He dug his nose back into the book and went back to reading.

Doesn't he hear the kinda things people say about him? The things they say behind his back? Here's my favorite one, created by Tabitha Smith: he thinks he some kinda philanderer, a player, some kinda god, but everyone knows he can't deliver. I changed the words a bit, but it's the same idea overall.

_Remy c'n so, chère! An' one day, he's gonna show y'... right after he finds and kills Tabby._

I hate him.

_Huh?_

Hmm. What's a stronger word for hate? I abhor him. Yeah, that's it! I absolutely abhor him. He's always suggesting stuff and making lewd comments in front of our friends. Sure they laugh. But what do they really think?

_Who's dis and what have dey done wit' m' chère? Rogue don' care what people say 'bout her._

And he knows I can't touch, which is the worst part of this whole relationship-thing he claims we're in. All these things he keeps saying make no sense... they'll never happen! The only way I can get even the tiniest bit of sensation, of contact, is through his force field. And let me tell you, it's not the best way to kiss, especially when he gets excited! The field begins to glow and spark and charge. I end up with a burn marks all over my face. I still have a few from the last serious session we had, but they're pretty much faded now.

He just wants to make me angry... vex me. He keeps calling me his girlfriend and everything, but I just don't think of us that way anymore. I'm tired of this, day after day. Maybe it's time to call this relationship (actually, lack thereof) a quits.

_Is dis what chère really t'inks of m'?_

I just don't know what to do.

Uh-oh. Logan's coming upstairs and if he finds me awake still, he'll be like, 'Well, why don't we have a little Danger Room session? That'll be sure to tire you out, Stripes. Then you'll be sure to have a good night's sleep.' Got to go now. I'll write more later, Journal. See you!

- Rogue

P.S. And that's what you get for reading my diary, Remy Etienne LeBeau!

"Huh?" he questioned, scratching his scalp, utterly confused. "Is dis some kind o' trick? What in de world... Did Remy miss somethin'... somethin' important?"

Girlish laughter erupted from the walk-in closet. Rogue then tumbled out from behind the slightly ajar door in a ball, ending up in a sniggering heap on the carpet. "Ya should've seen ya face!" she shouted, hysterical. "It was hilarious, Cajun! Priceless!"

"Dis is not funny, chère," he warned. He looked hurt.

"Yeah it was, Swamp Rat! Definitely the best part of mah whole day! Besides, Ah just had ta get back at ya after Ah found out ya were readin' mah journal!" She smiled when he started to fidget. "Ah guess this did the trick, huh? Did ya learn ya lesson?"

"Oui. Remy 's sorry, chérie. But he's got t' know one t'ing... Was any o' it true?"

"Just one part," she said, smiling mischievously. "Ya just don't really seem lahke the type that can deliver sugah. It's nothin' ta be ashamed of, though. But Ah'm sure gonna be sorry when Ah _can _touch..."

"Is dat so?" He lunged forward, catching the southerner off guard, and began to tickle the sides of her stomach where she was most vulnerable. Remy refused to give into her cries for mercy. Instead, he, being the strongest of the couple, grasped her wrists in his one hand and held her arms above her head. He then went for the armpits, another weak spot. "Who can' deliver now, chère?"

"Let meh go, Cajun!" she screamed, squiggling and squirming.

"Non, ma chérie. Not in a million years," he said. "Not in a million years."

—**Thursday, April 19 (still)**

—**9.45 pm**

  
I never knew I could fall in love. Imagine... Me... Little Miss Loner.

I always used to think it was impossible because of my deadly powers. I couldn't touch and I thought no one would want someone who could put them in a coma with the touch of a fingertip. I was sadly mistaken. I've discovered that love isn't based on that one sense. It's not based on any of the five senses. Yeah, they're sometimes good to have, but fine looks and stuff doesn't really matter. Love is based on affection, and that only comes from the heart; love is a feeling for another human being, or mutant in my case, and is something that can't be destroyed by others' meddling.

I can tell Remy feels the same about and for me. It's not just a challenge for him, as I once believed. He wants to wait by me because he wants to be the first to congratulate me when I gain control. And when I do, what we have now, even with the newfound ability: touch, will still be the same. And it's all because he loves me, and love could care less about touch.

And Remy, if you're reading this because you didn't learn your lesson, good. I hope that you've figured it out by now... I love you.

- I hope all my readers enjoyed this little one-shot. Do review, please. Any comments and suggestions are welcome, as always. xmengirlzrule -


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